


the hills have eyes

by babylonfive



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, No Game of Thrones | A Song of Ice and Fire Knowledge Required, Nosebleed, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sacred Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylonfive/pseuds/babylonfive
Summary: The wolf and lion shall come together to defile this sacred place.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	the hills have eyes

**Author's Note:**

> if youve seen the orginal no u didnt

There was a great Weirwood Tree. On the hill, in lonesome seclusion. That part of the woods seemed deprived of life; Yukhei's keen ears did not pick up any signs of life besides a few caws of crows. The pristine snow was a nuisance and the lake was like spilled ink on white paper. Yukhei stood in front of the tree and felt barely a thing as he stared at the bleeding face carved into the great trunk of the tree.

Yukhei was still dizzy from the wine earlier. He blamed it on his hazy senses he ended up in this eerie place. The significance of all of it galloped past him in a rush. He thought naught of it.

The snapping of twigs and the crumbling of snow made the presence of new company known. Light feet but not a conscious effort to stay undetected. Yukhei's hand went for his sword but he did not move otherwise. His heart calmed when he heard a deep, frustratingly familiar voice closer by than Yukhei would've had guessed.

“Why are you here?”

The muscle on Yukhei's cheek twitched. “Because I wanted to,” he said bluntly, eyes not wavering from the bleeding, old face. Despite the insane cold, his body turned warm simply out of sheer irritation with the persistent man. It's been two tedious days since they have arrived in Winterfell. For those two whole days, this man has been doing his best to vex Yukhei to the best of his abilities. It was mostly innocent.

A light-breathed laugh, almost inaudible. “Fair enough.” The footsteps continued until there was a man draped in heavy black wool and leather standing next to Yukhei.

“You were right,” Taeyong said, and Yukhei only made an irritated noise at the back of his throat. Out of the corner of his eyes, Yukhei's gaze wandered down the man's profile. The snowflakes stood out against his pitch-black hair and his heavy eyelashes. Yukhei could not make sense of this man. He was alarmed by how much he sought after exactly that. Curiosity was bound to get you involved in all the wrong things, young man.

“I'm sure I will regret asking,” Yukhei began begrudgingly, “but what was I exactly right about?”

“Nobody actually likes you much,” and the shorter man's smile was a peculiar one; one that suggested there was a greater joke Yukhei did not know of. “With the exception of the throne prince. And women who want a piece of you. But even those know they ought to be careful.” To imagine that this man spoke to his cousin made Yukhei's stomach turn. His hand, still heavily sitting on the tilt of his sword, clenched around it.

He grunted and averted his eyes, his fists unclenching in a spasm. “Doesn't take a genius to figure out.” He kept his voice nonchalant, and for the most part; he truly-truly didn't care.

Taeyong's voice was as presumptuous as his words were risky. “It doesn't. You make it very easy.” Before Yukhei could register it, Taeyong turned and moved towards him. All Yukhei could do at the moment was to look down at him with parted lips and blown eyes, shamefully caught off guard.

“But I enjoy a little difficulty.” He looked up once more before his hands lashed out like snakes. A swift motion, the smooth sound of a blade unshielding and a blur of black as the man turned on his heel, now standing a good body away from where Yukhei was seemingly rooted into his spot.

“This is valyrian steel,” Taeyong noted with large eyes reflecting the flaring of the sun on the blade. He held it in his gloved hands and awed at it, completely ignoring Yukhei's demand to hand it back. Then his glowing face fell apart, showcasing an ugly snarl, a particular kind of disgusted amusement Yukhei was all too familiar with. “Why does a bastard carry around valyrian steel?”

“It's none of your business.” Taeyong only smiled down at Yukhei's ire. With growing interest he began swinging the sword around, testing the weight and balance. It was definitely heavier than what his muscles were used to, judging from his errors. It would be fairly easy to best him physically.

Taeyong should've seen it coming. After all the bastard of Casterly Rock was an infamous lunatic. A lion that didn't use a sword but ripped his enemies apart with his bare hands. No patient for words of diplomacy. Undomesticated and unsophisticated. Simple. He was filling the role of the bastard quite well.

Yukhei's hands were bare but warm, the grip around Taeyong's wrists relentless. They were squeezed and twisted and despite all the snarling and resisting, Taeyong eventually crumbled, his grip loosening and the heavy weapon landing in the snow with a dull thud.

With a powerful and prompt swing, he kicked Yukhei between the legs, then in the stomach; once, twice, untill he was cowering and wheezing. Taeyong’s hands went for the sword more out of instinct than actual desire, but Yukhei had recovered quicker than he had hoped for. The larger man tackled him, knocking all the air from his lungs as he pushed him against the tree trunk. His head hit the trunk with a hollow thud, bouncing off it unnaturally. He groaned as he tried to regain composure, the splinters and barks pushing into his precious face. There was the distant feeling of something warm and thick running down his mouth and chin but he could not be sure, the thin but strong web of pain over his face numbing his senses. Nevertheless, he was smiling, laughed lightly with a copper mouth when Yukhei finally picked his own weight up and let his lungs take in cold, sharp breaths like a drowning man.

Yukhei picked up his sword next, ignoring the deranged snickers and incoherent words from the other man. He dusted himself off, ready to leave this cursed place only to be seconds later grappled by Taeyong, knocking him onto the snow. That was on him. Turning your back on a wounded wolf was worth punishment.

With heavy grunts and wheezing and something akin to laughter, they tossed and turned until they were both out of breath and coated in white.

“Enough!” Yukhei bellowed, placing his heavier body onto the man and locking each one of his wrists next to his head. They were feeble little things, so easy to break. “What’s your goddamn problem?”

The Northman underneath him was still breathing heavy, his face red from the cold wind and exhaustion, as well as, the blood of his. The deep red had tainted his mouth and nose and was now trickling down his bruised cheeks. His grin was curious and his teeth pink-tinted.

“Have me,” he said with a wet mouth and eyes wild like a snowstorm.

Yukhei's face fell apart, now keenly aware of the body beneath him, so warm and tantalizing.

The notion of fucking this man had not occurred to him till now. He had his fair share of men, simply enjoyed the company of women better, their eyes always mirthfully filled with a sense of superiority. It was also much simpler to find a willing woman than a willing man. If the Northman's past behavior taught Yukhei anything, it was not to let your guard down around him.

Yet, he hardly could oppose the idea, as indecent as it was. On the contrary, Taeyong’s bloodstained and violently self-satisfied face was immensely attractive. The man was more beautiful than the songs described him to be. They did not do him justice.

“Do you withdraw?” His acute eyes were looking for some unspoken truth as they fixated on Yukhei's own.

Yukhei made a noise at the back of his throat. ”No," he mumbled eventually.

“Then have me.”

There seemed to be no end to the vigor in the man. Yukhei scoffed and arched a brow down at the other man.

"Dry?"

“And have me bleed?” He asked of him, voice impudent. “No, you mongrel. In my left pocket is a little bottle.” Of course, there was one. It spiked Yukhei's suspicion but not enough to abdomen the act.

“Are you always this prepared or were you just that certain that I would falter?”

His thin, impudent grin was as much like a caustic insult as it was stunning. “A little bit of both,” he said, almost sheepishly (that bastard).

They undid their clothes to a minimal degree, not keen on freezing their asses off. Yukhei quickly undid the heavy cape off Taeyong's shoulders.

“Turn around.”

The man did so without a fuzz. When Yukhei's oiled finger entered him, he was already wet and giving. He really was prepared. Yukhei's heart rate picked up because he just might have fallen into a trap; a lovely, warm trap. The thought was forgotten the moment the smaller man let out a muffled sigh of pleasure. Yukhei ignored the very real longing to watch that pretty face of his unraveling. A shame, he thought.

After sufficiently spreading him open on his fingers, he put a generous amount over himself and roughly pushed into him. He hissed at the tightness, his breath warm and struggling against Taeyong's ear. “Shit,” he cursed, his boots digging further into the snowy ground. He felt Taeyong clench around him and groaned again, "Gods."

“Just you and me,” he said, still stubbornly forming words between harsh wheezing. There was no shutting that lippy mouth that took every chance to throw around a smartass remark. Had it been anybody else, Yukhei would have cut their throat by now.

With his free hand, Yukhei pushed the man against his chest, locking all the cold air between their warm bodies. He buried himself in his hair, as dark as the murky, barren lake in this rotten place, and was determined to finish the ordeal as quickly as possible. It was soulless and rushed because he feared this man might just consume it.

His vision turned blurry and he came with a spasm inside him. Soon after, he picked himself up and stood over Taeyong's still cowering and quivering body. As he tidied himself up he tipped the body of the man on its back with the tip of his shoe. Taeyong did not resist as his naked member was exposed to the cold and harsh air. He winced and continued to pump himself in shaky staccato jerks.

Taeyong bared his pink teeth, and even from down there his eyes were striking. “I'm cold,” he said, simultaneously demanding for it to stop without actually phrasing it. Like a child crying for milk. He must've been a few years older than Yukhei, yet he was still a pathetic cub in his neediness.

“So be.” But his words carried no weight.

Taeyong snarled and kicked Yukhei's feet from underneath him with one powerful heave, sending the man tumbling onto him with a surprised grunt. Soon, Taeyong buried his free hand into Yukhei's hair, to both secure himself, as well as, to keep the other man from cruelly withdrawing once again.

His speech was a warm puff against Yukhei's skin. “Share your warmth with me," he said with a broken rasp that almost seemed too vulnerable "only this once. Close your hands around me, mine are so cold and numb.”

Yukhei played with the idea of pulling away. Despite the claw-like hold on his hair, he could do so easily. But he did as ordered and wrapped his fingers around the man's warm member. Nothing amounted to the way Taeyong mewled when Yukhei pressed his thumb against his wet slit. Yukhei was borderline enraptured with the Northernman. His face as it was pulled apart by pleasure, his dulcet voice reacting shamelessly to Yukhei's grip. Everything about him. All too delicate for this harsh climate up north. He belonged somewhere more kind, somewhere around the Reach, where it's warm and plentiful.

Shaking the images away, as enticing as they were, he finished him off in a rush, almost desperate to get over with the ordeal and to make the man cease those wicked noises. He wiped his hand clean on the snow, and stood up in a haste, leaving Taeyong laying on his coat in the snow, in blood and sour sweat.

If he wasn't so weak he would've desisted looking at the man's face a last time, drinking the image of him splayed out like ink on paper with the exception of his flushed skin. He would've missed the dazed expression, more beautiful in its exhaustion, and more importantly, he would've missed the way it sent his heart palpitating.


End file.
